


Until love do us part

by Inessencedivided



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1945, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood Pact, M/M, Summer of 1899, albus and gellert are pretentious idiots, teenagers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inessencedivided/pseuds/Inessencedivided
Summary: In the middle of a warm summer storm, Albus meets Gellert Grindelwald’s mismatched eyes for the first time. When their paths cross again, those same eyes are grey and Albus is left with the greatest puzzles of his yet short life.





	Until love do us part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PuzzlesolverDramaqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzlesolverDramaqueen/gifts).



> Written for the grindeldore holiday exchange, for PuzzlesolverDramaqueen.  
> Ich bin so froh, dich kennen gelernt zu haben, als ich das hier schrieb.
> 
> The prompt was:  
> "He is half of my soul, as the poets say." - Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

The first time Albus Dumbledore saw Gellert Grindelwald, he didn't see him at all. It would take him another month until he understood the magnitude of that chance encounter.

Maybe he would have put the pieces together sooner had they spoken to each other that day. But for all that their two months together would be defined by the words they exchanged - written and spoken alike - their first meeting passed with barely a glance and no syllable uttered.

A pair of mismatched eyes, piercing from underneath the hood of a dark blue cloak that did little to repel the rain that was drumming down on them, was all that Albus saw before the figure had hurried past him. He stopped to look back and was just quick enough to see a swish of dark fabric disappear around the corner he had just come from and towards the graveyard of Godric’s Hollow.

The next time those eyes met his, he wouldn't recognize them.

 

~

 

The hours of summer rain from the day before had left the grass in the Dumbledore's front lawn a lush green and the newly revived wildflowers were turning their faces towards the clear sky. The air was heavy with lingering moisture and those who could at all afford it had stayed inside and shut the curtains to keep in the last breaths of fresh air.

It was therefore with great displeasure that Aberforth Dumbledore opened the front door, only to find Bathilda Bagshot on the other side. She wore a bright smile on her face - too bright for Aberforth’s already sour mood.

“Good morning, my dear”, she smiled up at him.

“Morning”, Aberforth grumbled, pointedly leaving out the word “good” from the greeting.

Bathilda, never to be deterred by a little rudeness, merrily pushed past Aberforth into the house, carrying a basket with something covered by a dishtowel in one hand and using the other to drag a young man behind her, who had previously been mostly obscured by her frame in the doorway. The stranger was tall, though not as tall as Aberforth, and his hair fell in golden curls around his handsome, almost aristocratic features. He let himself be pulled into the kitchen, grinning at his aunt’s enthusiasm. His amusement at the entire situation only seemed to be heightened by the fact that his host seemed to be as unhappy with his presence as was humanly possible.

“Who is he?”, Aberforth barked. “And what possessed you to let him into our home?”

“Now, now, Aberforth”, Bathilda admonished gently, while busying herself at the kitchen counter. She took a large loaf of bread out of the basket and started to cut it with a knife she took out of one of the drawers. “I meant no harm. This is my nephew, Gellert, great-nephew, to be precise. I’ve been meaning to introduce him to Albus ever since he arrived a week ago. He is from Austria, you see, and doesn’t know anyone here. But he only agreed to come along yesterday.”

As if on cue, the oldest remaining Dumbledore entered the room.

“Mrs. Bagshot, what a pleasant surprise”, he greeted her, as politely as if she hadn’t come into the house completely unannounced and uninvited. He, too, however, eyed the stranger in their kitchen with close scrutiny that would only be recognised as suspicion by those who knew him well.

“And you …” He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because the Gellert had rushed, almost leapt, around the table, startling even his aunt, who let out a quiet “ouch” at having cut her thump with the bread knife.

“Gellert Grindelwald”, he said, grabbing Albus hand, which hadn’t even been offered to him yet, and pulled him forward. “And you, I gather, are Albus Dumbledore?”

Albus felt heat creep up his face as he was sure he had never been studied so closely by anyone before, let alone someone he had met mere seconds ago. Gellert’s grey eyes, wild as the storm clouds from the previous day, were roaming his face as if he was cataloguing every feature. There was an odd, concentrated expression on his face and the intensity of it had Albus stare back at him, transfixed. After a moment, he seemed to be satisfied and the tension on his features melted away. His eyes stopped their exploration and settled on Albus’ own with a smile. Momentarily, Albus was convinced he saw something shift in them, a hint of blue, as if the clouds were lifting to reveal a patch of clear sky, but then the moment passed and he was sure it was just a reflection of his own wide gaze in the stranger’s iris.

They held each other’s gaze and hands for another moment, before Gellert loosened his grip, retreating to the other side of the table once more.

Bathilda was busy mending the cut in her thump, but Aberforth had watched the whole exchange. He wore a frown of confusion on his face as his gaze flickered from his brother, who was still standing in the door he had just come through, his hand held out in front of him, to Gellert, who was now lounging in one of the chairs at the table, as if he hadn’t just caused a mild commotion, and back.

It took the older Dumbledore child another five seconds to gather his wits and remember why he had come down in the first place. He visibly shook himself and then turned to Aberforth.

“Abe”, Aberforth rolled his eyes at the nickname out of his brother’s mouth, but let him continue. “She won’t get out of bed. I think she had a nightmare, but she won’t talk to me. Maybe you should try and have her come down to -”, but here he stopped, seemingly remembering they had company. “Maybe wait a bit and comfort her. I will bring up breakfast later.”

Aberforth, for once, did not protest. In fact he didn’t reply at all. He simply turned and left the room without another word.

Albus hadn’t intended to send him away so he couldn’t disturb his conversation with his new acquaintance, but he suddenly found himself relieved that Aberforth was gone.

Remembering his manners, he turned around to put the kettle on to offer his guests a cup of tea, only to find out that water was already starting to boil on the stove. He smiled thankfully at Mrs. Bagshot, who squeezed his arm and then proceeded to place the bread she had brought, along with a jar of raspberry jam and a loaf of cheese on the table, all the while chatting amicably.

“Now, I won’t bother you with this old hag’s company much longer. I just received an order of books from Flourish and Blotts that I need to sort through. You boys eat and get to know each other. And Albus, do make sure to get some of this up to your brother and sister, the poor dear is still so small for her age.” She softened the hidden admonishing with a warm smile in his direction and with a peck on her nephew’s cheek, she was gone.

“I apologize. My aunt can be a bit overbearing”, Gellert said. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were following Albus’ every move as he said down across from him. The intensity in his gaze had returned. Albus felt quite exposed. The feeling was somewhat uncomfortable in its alienness, but still, he couldn't say that he felt any desire to leave his present company. Their introduction, if one could call it that, had been quite unusual and Albus found himself desiring to know what had prompted such behaviour. The young man before him, he thought, did not give of the impression of doing anything without a purpose.

“No need to apologize, I quite understand. Mrs. Bagshot has been most generous, ever since mother's passing. If she is a bit over enthusiastic at times, I can't fault her for it.”

“Still”, Gellert grimaced, breaking the spell of his own stare. “She has very strong opinions on everybody's life and their well-being and once she has set her mind to something, she will not be deterred.”

This seemed a great grievance to Gellert, who heaved a long suffering sigh. Albus chuckled.

“So you refused to meet me for a week solely on the principle of not giving her what she wants?”

“You heard that, huh? And no. To be completely honest, the prospect of having to entertain anyone in this village wasn't appealing to me at all.” He didn't show the slightest concern for the fact that his comment might have come off as rude.

“What caused your change of mind?”, Albus asked, leaning forward slightly.

“You did”, Gellert replied, leaning forward as well.

Albus wanted to ask what he meant by that strange proclamation, but he didn't get the chance. Gellert's eyes had wandered down from his face to the vicinity of his chest, making Albus look downwards as well. The necklace he had been wearing constantly since he had been sixteen, had slipped out from underneath his collar as he had leant forward. A smile spread across Gellert's face and the storm clouds in his eyes danced with mirth and triumph.

And Albus knew, in that moment, that he understood. All questions about strange greetings and odd changes of heart were wiped from his mind. He grabbed the silver chain, pulled it over his head and placed it on the table between them.

“You recognize it.” It wasn't a question it was a fact.

Gellert nodded eagerly. His hand wandered to his own neck and pulled at a leather band that Albus hadn't noticed before. He placed his own pendant next to Albus’. They looked different. Where Albus’ was a simple, delicate replica of the sign of the Deathly Hallows, Gellert's was a thick gold coin, into which the sign had been carved. As Gellert's hand retreated, Albus noticed a slight tremor in it.

“I have never met anyone who recognized this”, he said. His accent, barely noticeable before, became a little more pronounced, as if he forgot to make an effort to hide it in his excitement.

“Me neither”, Albus answered and then a thought came to him.

“Is this why you came to Godric’s Hollow? Do you know who lived here?”

Again, Gellert nodded, his curls dancing around his head.

“I wanted to see where the third brother lived and where it was rumoured that he finally met death.”

“You are looking for them”’ Albus stated. Another fact he knew as soon as the words had left his lips.

“Of course I am!” Gellert exclaimed. “This knowledge is precious, the possibilities endless! Why would I limit myself to theory if I have them means to procure them?”

For the first time during their conversation, Albus felt a stab of jealousy.

“I wish I had the same luxury. I cannot leave here to procure anything. I have a duty of care to my siblings. So far, my research into the Hallows had to be limited to theory.”

He feared he'd find pity in Gellert's eyes, but there was none.

“You live in Godric's Hollow, Albus!” Distantly, Albus noticed that he liked the sound of his name on Gellert's lips. “This place is filled to the brim with magical history! The presence of the muggles living here only makes it shine all the brighter!”

“I'm afraid I do not associate this place with magical glory”, Albus replied rewfully. “I have walked around in circles here too many times for it to feel like anything but a prison cell.”

He had never dared to voice these thoughts aloud, not even to himself, much less to anyone else.

“Then let me show you!” Gellert reached across the desk and placed his hand on Albus’ wrist.

“You, someone who has been here for barely a week, want to show me the village that I have lived in for close to eight years?”

“Of course!” Gellert grinned. He stood up and pulled on Albus wrist. “Let's go there, now! Let's visit his grave and see if the two if us together will find something we didn't find on our own.”

Albus felt his thoughts were running away from him. Mere minutes ago, he had been dreading another day of the same routine he had been stuck in for months. Now his pulse was quickening and the outside world, bright and colourful under the sun, suddenly seemed inviting rather than a nuisance.

They grabbed their respective necklaces and hurried out the door, the freshly cut bread, jam and tea forgotten on the table.

 

~

 

After that first introduction, they didn't go a day without seeing each other. A week later, Gellert admitted that he had originally planned to leave Godric's Hollow, and in fact Great Britain, on that same day. Albus didn't have to ask what, or rather who, had caused his change of heart. It was a novel experience for him, to be so sure of his place in someone else's life. The warmth that knowledge caused to spread in his stomach was something he soon found himself associating with Gellert as much as his fluttering heart rate and his racing thoughts as they shared ideas and made plans.

It was on the same day that Gellert first fell asleep in Albus’ bedroom. The old manuscripts they had been searching through for traces of the Elder Wand were spread on the floor and over Albus bed. Around three in the morning, Gellert's voice had grown quite, his sentences interlaced with the odd German word, until his eyes had fallen closed and his head came to rest on his arms and he stopped talking mit-sentence. Albus had fallen asleep, simply looking at his handsome features, for once at rest and when they had woken up, they realised their hands had found each other while they slept. After that, their relationship had shifted, although it didn’t feel like a shift at all, more like a natural progression. They were already gravitating towards each other in everything else. Physical contact was only another expression of that - at once unavoidable and unquestioned. And Albus, who’s body and mind had never quite felt in tune with one another, knew he was, for once, whole.  

Gellert understood even the parts of him even he himself tried to deny. He spoke even those words that Albus never dared utter aloud, not even to himself.

“So you are saying, Albus, that it is not the Muggle’s fault, that your family is in the situation you are currently in? Was it not their ignorance, their cruelty, their barbarity that struck down Ariana?”

“Of course it was”, Albus said clipped. They were sitting by a creek on the outskirts of town. It was a beautiful day, yet Ariana, who never saw much of the sun anyway, had still had an outburst in the morning. Albus had shielded himself and Aberforth from the Obscuruse's wrath, but Aberforth had been the one to calm her down enough for it to recede into her. “They did not understand. When Muggles don't understand something they grow afraid and when they are afraid, they attack.”

“Exactly!” Gellert exclaimed. “So why don't you allow yourself your righteous anger? It is justified.”

“Because the issue doesn't lie with these specific three muggles. It is systemic! They were only a symptom, not the disease.”

“Alright”, Gellert conceded, although Albus knew he would revisit the argument later. “Then, if you are too proud to admit that you feel anger where it might not be entirely reasonable, channel it where it is useful. You said it yourself, the problem lies within the system. It is embedded into our laws, which favour the protection of guilty muggles over that of innocent witches and wizards.”

Albus nodded.

“I have long recognized that Ariana’s imprisonment might be an extreme case, but it is only the logical conclusion to a centuries old policy of hiding and denial of our own very nature.”

“That is what I had been telling them at Durmstrang for years. But no one would listen. They are all so set is their ways or simply parroting the same lines that have been fet to them since they were in diapers. Our kind has been in these chains for so long, it has forgotten what it was like to be free.”

“Yet you think you can break the chains?” Albus asked, although he knew the answer.

“I think _we_ can break the chains!” Gellert exclaimed. He pushed the book that had been lying open between them into Albus’ lap and moved closer, his hands interlocking with Albus’ own “Albus, you were right! They are inherently ignorant. They have not been given the same abilities that we have. We have a duty to them, too.”

“Are you talking about the muggles now or your short-sighted teachers at Durmstrang?”, Albus asked shrewdly.

“Both.” Gellert grinned. “The latter might have magic, but they are still dimwitted fools, lulled into a sense of apparent security when they should be yearning for freedom.”

Albus shook his head.

“Neither have understood the things that are self-explanatory to us.”

“What we need to be to them then, in essence, is their teachers. I have never had the patience for that, I freely admit it. You are right, that was my mistake at Durmstrang. I grew frustrated and let my anger get the better of me. But you, Albus, you want to guide them towards true cognisance, the like they cannot reach themselves.” His eyes, previously feverish in his excitement, grew soft and he squeezed Albus’ hands tighter. He took a deep breath, as if drawing strength from the air between them. “Come with me, Albus. I need you.”

On the rare occasion that Albus had imagined his own first kiss, it had never been as effortless as it turned out to be in this moment. He leaned forward, Gellert mirrored him - or was it the other way around? - and their lips met. The kiss wasn’t deep, but light like the breeze flowing from water at their feet. Albus raised his hand and brushed his fingers through Gellert golden curls.

Their mouths lingered inches from each other, as they broke the kiss.

“Is that a yes?” Gellert asked quietly.

“Yes, Gellert”, Albus laughed. “I will come with you. Arrangements will have to be made first. We cannot leave tomorrow, but yes … we can go looking for the Hallows together. The rest will follow.”

Gellert surged forward and pushed him back into the grass, his blond hair falling like a curtain around Albus’ face in the grass as he laid underneath him. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Albus thought that he could have sworn that it should not have been long enough to do that. But then Gellert kissed him again and everything else was wiped away.

 

~

 

It was that night - after Aberforth and Ariana had gone to bed and Albus and Gellert could forgo their owl-correspondents for Gellert entering the Dumbledore house through Albus’ open window - that they decided to solidify their allegiance with a pact.

“If we are to truly become the Masters of Death - both of us together, instead of one of us on his own - we need to be bound together by magic”, Gellert argued, as he brought the idea up. “All the commitment in the world, however true or heartfelt, will not convince the Elder Wand in its jealous nature.”

And so they began their research. It took them several trips to Knockturn Alley - explained to Aberforth and Bathilda respectively as running errands in Diagon Alley - to gather all the necessary information and every ingredient needed to ensure that they performed the pact correctly. Dabbling in such arcane arts as blood magic was always dangerous and the consequences for failure could have lasting repercussions for the very essence of every party involved.

They were finally ready to seal their fates together on the 30th day of knowing each other. Since both the Dumbledore’s and Bathilda’s home were out of question as a place to perform the ritual - too much chance of someone disturbing them - Albus had found them a barn on the outskirts of town. They met there an hour before the first light of day, so they had time to prepare and still begin the ritual at the break of dawn.

“Before we do this”, Gellert said after they had finished their preparations, an etch of uncharacteristic heistation to his voice. They said down next to each other on a ball of hay, the lights they had conjured, hovering over their heads.

“I need to tell you something. Part of this I have never told anyone, but since I know now that my guess as to who you are has been proven right, it would feel like a betrayal to you to hide the truth from you any longer.”

It was apparent that Gellert was building up to something important, so Albus only nodded and let him continue.

“You see, before we met, I already knew your face. I had seen it many times and I knew, though I didn’t know why or how that you would be integral in my own future.”

Albus suddenly realised that this might be the answers he had been looking for. For all that he understood Gellert Grindelwald like he had never understood another human being before, there had always been the odd moment, an allusion made to something just outside Albus’ understanding. He had never liked those moments, so he hadn’t dwelled on them.

But now he could see the answers hovering in the space between them, and so he dared ask the question.

“You knew me before we met. How?”

“I saw you.” Gellert stated it as fact. “Ever since I was about eight years old.”

“But how?”

“I am a seer.” Gellert said. Albus felt his eyebrows shoot up involuntarily. He carefully and quickly schooled his features back into a neutral expression. Gellert was watching his reactions closely, the grey in his eyes like steel, and Albus could sense that this was as pivotal a moment in their relationship as their first meeting had been.

Gellert pursed his lips.

“I know you are a sceptic -”

“I admit, I have yet to meet a true seer and I tend prefer proof over faith.”

“You have met a true seer”, Gellert reiterated, turning his whole body towards Albus, so he was sitting cross-legged on the hay.

“The ability has been in my family for as long as records have been kept, although it sometimes skips a few generations. And you were one of the first clear visions I had. I had had flashes before, but never as clear as your face when I first saw it at eight.”

There were a thousand questions on Albus mind, each fighting to escape his mouth, but the one that tumbled out was:

“Why me?”

Gellert seemed to deflate a little as he shrugged.

“I never know why until a vision comes to pass, if they come to pass at all, that is. But I think I understand now. You were the missing link in the chain of my destiny and I in yours.”

Albus knew he should be more sceptical and had anyone else told him this, he would have been, but this was Gellert. He had offered this explanation without any significant incentive, but with the real chance of rejection. They were about to perform a blood pact either way, he didn't need to convince Albus anymore. This was entirely to clear the air between them.

Gellert apparently mistook his silence for hesitation to believe him. He placed his hands on Albus’’ temples.

“Let me show you.”

Albus knew an invitation when he received one. He took his wand out of his pocket and, looking directly into Gellert's eyes, muttered “Legilimens.”

The grey of Gellert's eyes divided into its components, one becoming black, the other so light it looked almost white. Before Albus could dwell on it, he was sucked in, guided by Gellert's skilled Occlumency, images started to flash in front of him. His own face. a bit younger than he was now and then older - a lot judging by the white streaks in his hair and beard. The image finally settled on his face as Albus saw it when he looked in the mirror as well. His auburn hair, swirling around his disembodied head, seemed to catch fire as it moved and suddenly flames were filling Albus' vision and a bird was flying towards him, red and golden as the flames had been.

He yanked himself out of Gellert's mind and sucked in a breath of air, the hands that were still cupping his face guiding him back to the presence.

“Intense, isn't it?” Gellert smiled a little ruefully. “And visions of you were never among the painful ones. But do you see now? Do you be -”

“I believe you”, Albus cut him off. He placed his own hands over Gellert's to guide them down and squeezed them gently.

“I never told you this because, to be honest, it hadn't crossed my mind that it might be relevant. There is a legend about my family that father used to tell us and his father used to tell him. It is said that a phoenix will come to any Dumbledore in dire need.”

Gellert's head tilted back a little, his mouth forming a slight “o”.

“So that is why I keep seeing a phoenix in association with you. I almost expected one to appear every moment we spent together, but then again, that part of the visions might just be symbolic for your family.”

Albus felt a slight stab of disappointment. He had hoped the visions predicted that he would one day meet a phoenix.

“There is something else.” Gellert let go of Albus hands and stood up.

“This, truly, no one knows, Albus.” His voice had taken on a conspiratorial tone, all insecurity left behind. It seemed Albus had passed the test already and this was his reward.

“So will you finally explain to me how it was I who convinced you to finally agree to meet me? How did you find out that the face from your visions belonged to me?”

“You are asking the right questions.” Gellert grinned and as he did, his face changed in more ways than just the shift to a different expression. His curly blond hair grew sleeker and receded into his skull until it barely reached his chin. His jaw bones became more pronounced and his cheeks a little more hollow. He even gained a few inches in height.

Albus had been expecting it by now, but he still gasped as he saw one eye turn lighter and the other darker. Mismatched eyes were now staring into his own.

“So it was you! I've been wondering for some time.” He looked up at Gellert from his sitting position. “The day before you finally let your aunt convince you to meet me, it was you I crossed paths with as I was leaving the cemetery.”

“The very same”, Gellert said.

“But you weren't using a glamour the whole, nor are you using one now, I would be able to sense it, unless you …” He broke of.

Gellert changed once more. He shrunk, his hair turned white and his back arched until an old man, weighed down by years he never lived was standing before him. He shifted again, this time into a tall woman with dark features. Next came a middle aged man, his dark hair cut to precion and the frown lines on his forehead giving of an air of authority and competence. Before Albus could comment, Gellert seemed to have had enough and his appearance changed once more into the tall, mismatched form he had revealed to Albus moments ago.

“I'm a Metamorphmagus, Albus.”

Albus couldn't help himself. He broke out into laughter. At once, Gellert's features grew angry.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No!” Albus exclaimed, trying to reign in his mirth, but not able to help the smile that was breaking out on his face as he stood up and placed himself in front of Gellert. “No. I'm laughing at whatever Gods saw it fit to bestow you with every magical gift under the sun, while over ninety-nine percent of mankind were left with none at all.”

At his words, Gellert's smile broke into a grin again.

“Says Mr. Albus ‘I learned wandless magic in my spare time’ Dumbledore.”

“You missed a few middle names there”, Albus teased and pulled him closer, drinking in the mismatched gaze, so much more open than the grey that had cloaked them before.

“You shouldn't disguise your eyes, though”, Albus said. “I understand that they are recognizable and might not be beneficial towards disguising yourself, but they suit you.”

Albus distantly noted that he had to lean up now, to kiss him, instead of down.

“Is this your original height, too, or did you just seize the opportunity to be, for once, taller than me?” he asked as he broke the kiss.

“That, my dearest partner in crime, is for me to know and for you to wonder about eternally.”

 

~

 

Albus had always found that beginnings held their own kind of magic and between them, in every breath they shared as they kissed and now their blood that had mingled to become one, laid the promise of the beginning of something greater than either of them could ever have hoped to achieve alone.

Afterwards, as they had shared their blood and their bodies, Albus pulled the Deathly Hallows necklace over his head once more. Gellert understood at once and followed his example. They placed their own pendants around the others neck. Gellert's was heavier than his own had been and Albus liked the thought that he would be noticing it more now that it rested on his skin.

 

~

 

Gellert took the silver pendant with him as he left, as suddenly and violently as he had entered Albus’ life, along with the parts of him Albus had given away so freely - his blood, his ideas - his heart.

Open flesh wounds were left where these parts had been, along with the severed tendons that were the bonds to his sister and brother before death had cut them himself.

 

~

 

They held the funeral two days later. Albus hadn't slept at all and hadn't left the house until Bathilda came to get him. He didn't know where Aberforth had spent the nights since their sister had died, but he suspected he had fled to the stables, as far away from Albus as he could get on their small property.

Bathilda held him by the arm, the entire walk towards the churchyard and some distant part of Albus was thankful for it,for the mere task of choosing a direction for his feet to carry him towards seemed like an impossible task.

“He left this morning in hurry. I'm sorry, Albus”, she told him in a hushed voice as if the silence that was courteous at a funeral was already required of them on the walk there.

“I told him you needed him now more than ever, but it only made him angry.”

Albus didn't reply and she didn't press him.

The funeral party was small. Aberforth was already there. Albus didn't dare stand next to him in front of the open grave, so he took his place behind him. He barely heard what the muggle pastor was droning about. The words were meaningless anyway.

Even though Godric's Hollow was a small village, he only knew three people among the gathered - Aberforth, Bathilda als Elphias, who had been trying to catch his eye ever since he had arrived.

Albus couldn't bare look at him, or anyone who knew him better than one would after passing each other in front of the bakery in the morning.

He let his eyes roam over the small party and through für fog of his tired, numb mind rose one question: Was one of them him?

There was no room for any more hurt in him. Otherwise he might have panicked, or cried, or screamed at every single one of them on the odd chance that they might be his true target after all. But there was no strength for fight left in him that he didn't use on himself.

He didn't raise a hand to defend himself, as Aberforth’s fist collided with his nose. If his sunken eyes and ashen skin hadn't reflected his insights before, the blood pouring down his face and staining his clothes now certainly did.

 

~

 

Years passed until Albus heard the name Gellert Grindelwald spoken aloud again. And when he did, the gauze and bandages he had so carefully dressed his wounds with were yanked away.

Rumors reached him, of a handsome blond man with mismatched eyes and grand ideas. Some papers praised his ingenuity and youthful spark as much as others condemned his radical ideas. But since his influence was limited to continental Europe, such articles were usually an afterthought in the foreign affairs section of the Daily Prophet.

The first time Albus saw his picture grace the front page - and made him joke on the toast he had been eating for breakfast - was as a wanted poster.

The headline read “Gellert Grindelwald - wanted for crimes against muggles in an attempt to overthrow the Statute of Secrecy!”

Underneath it was a large picture of a man in his thirties. Albus gripped the paper so tightly his short nails ripped it's edges, but he didn't care. The man, proudly looking whomever held the paper in the eye, was unmistakably Gellert Grindelwald. The strong jaw and hollow cheeks, the mismatched eyes - even more striking in black and white than they were in person - everything was as Albus remembered it from the day they swore their oath. He had changed his hair though. It was hard to tell in the black and white image, but it looked lighter than Albus remembered and had been cut short at the sides.

He kept a look out after that for faces he might wear as a disguise, although the continued presence of Gellert Grindelwald on his mind weighed him down and shortened his sleep.

So when he saw another face in the papers that resembled one he had seen in a barn almost three decades ago - this time much smaller and bearing the headline “New head-auror Percival Graves appointed by President Piquery - he started digging. There had been strange occurrences in New York City. Entire blocks destroyed by what was described as a dark magical thunderstorm and he knew what Gellert was looking for - another Obscurus.

It didn't take much for him to connect the dots. So he told Newt Scamander - kind, gentle Newt Scamander, who would rather see himself come to harm than kill another living creature - that there was thunderbird in need of rescuing. 

He had hoped, foolishly, that Newt wouldn’t have to face Gellert to save the Obscurial. And it had nearly cost Credence Barebone his life.

Months passed and Gellert escaped custody - using polyjuice potion that had been slipped in his drink by a MACUSA wizard, or so the papers claimed. Albus knew better. 

Years passed and incident after incident that played into Gellert's cards, feats of magic that Albus recognised unmistakably as his, were performed by strange witches and wizards who afterwards, strangely, could never be found.

And Albus, even as he joined the war effort, even as the pact was destroyed and every wound reopened - even when Gellert Grindelwald was finally led away from him in chains - never betrayed the one secret they alone knew.

He told himself he never did because it didn't matter. Everything Gellert did using his metamorphmagus abilities could easily be achieved through a glamour as well.

The truth was that he couldn't bare the thought of severing this last connection, the last tether that still connected them to the boys they were in a barn in 1899.

 

~

 

It was Albus who had insistent upon a fair trial. His voice had only been heard, amidst the cries for execution and the dementor’s kiss, due to his standing as the one who had defeated Gellert Grindelwald.

It was his calm, reasonable plea in the courtroom as well, delivered in flawless German,  which convinced them that living - truly living - with his crimes, was the only justice a monster like Gellert Grindelwald deserved.

The trial stretched over one week. Countless witnesses were heard, wizards and witches, but muggles most of all. Albus wasn't required to sit through all of it. No one dared give him an order anyway, now that he had - seemingly singlehandedly - defeated the greatest terror the world had ever faced. It was his own consciousness that dragged him out of bed every morning at 4 am to sit in a cold courtroom every morning at 5 and listen to every one of his victims from his seat of honour next to the judges.

The room the trial was held in was akin to a large amphi theatre, albeit one with a roof. The whole structure was made out of grey marble and there were no windows. The only sources of light were six glowing orbs, hovering in a circle over the heads of the audience. The judges, six of them as well - one for Africa, Europe, Asia, Oceania, North America and South America respectively - sat among the audience in a row halfway up the stand.

There was only one chair in the middle of the auditorium, if it could be called a chair at all. Having been made out of the same marble as the rest of the room, it could have been a throne, had it not been for the shackles that were bolted into it's armrests.

Gellert Grindelwald spent 12 hours chained to that chair every day for a week. The trial was more for show and everyone involved - from the judges, over the audience to the accused - knew it. The sentence had been decided upon long before it had started and the proceedings themselves - letting victim after victim speak - were the reasons it was held in the first place.

On the sevenths day, they had finally heard enough and the words that had been written many days before were finally read aloud.

“Das Gericht ist zu einem Urteil gelangt. Der Angeklagte wird der Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit, gegen die Muggel- wie die magische Gemeinschaft, für schuldig befunden. Er wird zu lebenslanger Haft in dem von ihm erbauten Gefängnis Nurmengard verurteilt. Um das Gefängnis werden Schilde errichtet, die das Ausüben jeglicher Magie, einschließlich angeborener, zauberstabloser Magie wie die Metamorphmagus-Fähigkeiten des Angeklagten, unmöglich machen. Gellert Grindelwald, akzeptieren Sie diese Strafe?”

Gellert’s mismatched eyes, previously fixed staunchly ahead, snapped up to the judge at the word “Metamorphmagus-Fähigkeiten” and then wandered over, slowly, as if in trance, to Albus.

There was shock in them and Albus knew why. There were two people left in the world who knew of Gellert’s Metamorphmagus abilities and they were currently locking eyes in a courtroom while representatives from every corner of the world were watching on.

“Gellert Grindelwald”, the European judge, a man from Austria, thundered. “Akzeptieren Sie diese Strafe?” 

“Ja”, Gellert said, still in Albus’ direction and his voice echoed over the heads of the audience of whom every single member, had held their breath until this very moment. It was as if a binding spell had been lifted. The room exploded into chaos. Some people burst into tears, others shouted, flung all their anger and pain down at the man below. Others cheered and applauded.

Guards came forward and unfastened the shackles that bound Gellert Grindelwald to the throne-like chair. They dragged him out by the the arms, forcing him to walk bowed and backwards. All the while, his eyes remained fixed on Albus. And Albus couldn't look away. For the first time in plain view, the colour in Gellert’s eyes shifted from their natural mismatched state to the swirling storm cloud grey he had worn as Albus had fallen in love with him and then - Albus was sure of it, although the distance between them grew - they turned blue. The hurt radiating from them - reaching out to him, though their blood bond had long been severed - was palpable. The emptiness that followed as they closed the door after him was, too.

Albus fell back into his chair like a puppet whose strings had cut and covered his eyes with his hands. Gellert thought it was him that had betrayed the one thing he had sworn to never reveal to anyone, he was sure of it. It had not been him, although he couldn’t, for the live of him, think of anyone who could have. Had one of Gellert’s followers put two and two together and told the authorities in the hopes of a more lenient sentence?

“Sir?” The African judge, the one who had sat closest to him for the duration of the trial, addressed him. Albus dragged himself out of the whirlwind of his thoughts and did his best to school his features into a neutral expression before looking at the witch.

“Yes?”

“You seem tired. Would you like me to arrange a portkey back to England for you?” She spoke in perfect English. 

“That would be most kind”, Albus took a long breath. “But could you answer one question for me? Who gave you the information that Grindelwald is a Metamorphmagus?”

“Quite a surprise, isn’t it?” She said, apparently thinking that his interest was due to surprise. “It answers quite a few questions - from how he gained so much inside information about various governments to how he managed to break out from custody so many times. But that shall be a thing of the past now. His aunt came forward with the information shortly after her own public testimony. She said she never believed it to be relevant enough to bring to the attention of the government before, but I believe she simply - Sir?”

Albus had stood up in the middle of her sentence.

“Please, if you would be so kind, have them arrange a portkey for me in a week. I would like to ensure the protections around Nurmengard myself once Grindelwald has been sent there. Good evening.”

And without another word or a look back, he, too, left the courtroom.

 

~

 

*Thump* The heavy iron gates of Nurmengard prison fell closed behind him. “Für das größere Wohl”, still legible even as he read the letters in reverse from the inside of the gate, seemed to taunt him. The sun shining through them were casting shadows across his face.

*Thump* as the first door of the fortress was dragged closed by the guards that accompany him. No magic was allowed in this place now and Gellert had never expected anyone to have to open or close these doors by hand when he had had them made.

*Thump, thump, thump*, his steps echoed around the long corridor. His legs moved purposefully, but their long strides weren't directed by Albus. He was just being carried along.

*Thump, thump, thump*, the iron chains hit the wall of the tower every time he released them, dragging himself up the steep round staircase to the highest cell of Nurmengard.

*Thump, thump* He knocked although he didn’t expect an answer. The “Herein!” that answered him from the other side of the door made him flinch. He placed a hand on the door and drew a deep breath. The cold air entered his body and send a shiver down his spine and he watched as the hand on the door shook. It took all the will he had left in him to press forward and step into the cell.

*Thump* The door fell shut with deafening finality. This time, Albus did not flinch. In fact, he was suddenly completely motionless. No sound could be heard, for even the last breath he had drawn was stuck in his throat.

Staring back at him out of blue eyes was himself. He was standing upright, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. The long hair that Albus had tied back with a simple black ribbon this morning was flowing down his back. The beard was messier, too. And the clothes of course, were different. He was wearing a simple grey shirt and trousers. They were thin, much too thin, for the coldness of a prison sitting at 5000 feet altitude. 

It was too much. He stumbled backwards, his hands finding the doorknob. The blue eyes staring back at him were not the ones he had fallen in love with. He could never love them.  The last time Albus Dumbledore ever saw Gellert Grindelwald, he didn’t see him at all.

And he ran.

 

~

 

Epilogue

Albus watched as Harry Potter’s form was swallowed once more by the mist. The tears in his eyes hadn’t dried yet and maybe a few more were gathering in them now. It didn’t concern him. He could allow himself to linger. It was easy here, where time had lost its meaning.

Slowly, the realisation that he wasn’t alone descended upon him. Maybe, he never had been.

“You raised him well.”

Albus drew a deep breath and turned around. Sitting on the bench he and Harry had just vacated was an old man with wavy, thick white hair and mismatched eyes.

Albus smiled ruefully, the movement causing a tear that had previously been caught in his eyelashes to loosen and fall.

Gellert Grindelwald looked like he would have had he not aged in a dark cell, wearing Albus’ own face. There were lines edged deep into his face, but his pallor looked healthy and his clothes were clean and thick.

“I half-wish I had a mirror”, Gellert said mockingly, but then seemed to catch himself, his voice turning serious. “I never learned what I would look like in my auld age. All I ever saw was the ruined version of you I had created.”

Albus walked slowly towards him and as he did, the mist around solidified. By the time he sat down next to Gellert, the bench had changed into hay and they were included by the small space of the old barn in Godric's Hollow.

“It wouldn't have made a difference. Your face or mine behind bars, I never could forgive either of us.”

He said it without contempt.

“I changed into you before they locked me away to hurt you. For that, I am sorry. I was so sure in my righteous anger, so sure you had thrown it all away, that all I wanted was to punish you as you saw fit to punish me.”

Albus watched his eyes intently. There was no flicker of anger in them and Gellert did not raise his voice. In fact he sounded like he was reciting words he had uttered many times. And who knew, maybe he had. 

“I did not understand, Albus. For all that I stole the words “For the Greater Good” from you -”

Albus opened his mouth to say that he never stole anything, that what he gave Gellert, he gave freely, but he sensed that an interruption might cause the other to falter all together and so he stayed silent.

“ - I never understood them. They were always about more than just us. Who was I to tell the masses to make sacrifices, when I directed them towards death and destruction in a vain attempt to eradicate that last weakness of mine?” 

“You had told me all of your secrets. Had I not been so cowardly, I could have brought you down much sooner. You were right in your fear.”

Gellert gave a mirthless laugh.

“That's what I told myself as well. It never occurred to me that it was that much simpler and that much more complicated than that.”

Albus drank in the sight of the man in front of him, the only one, who had ever understood him, before love and hubris had torn them apart.

“I’m not apologising for locking you away.”

“I don’t expect you to. Nor do I want you to, that is.”

“But I need to tell you”, Albus pressed on. “It wasn’t I who told them about -”

“Oh, I know”, Gellert said lightly. “Imagine my surprise. I had made my peace with it over the decades and then I meet Aunt Betty here and she tells me that it was her, not you, who told them. Then again, I always did underestimate her.”

Gellert looked around and towards the window where an unnamed star was rising to cast them in the first light of dawn. He turned his face towards it and closed his eyes.

“I must say”, he said. “I'm not surprised to find myself back in this barn. I missed it, you know. The hay was much more comfortable than my bunk bed in Nurmengard.”

Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You are in Godric's Hollow as well?”

Gellert opened his eyes again. He looked pointedly at their hands, but didn't reach out. Albus, sensing the silent plea to bridge the divide that still lay between them, took them in his. The smile that spread on Gellert's face at his acceptance took years off of it.

“Of course. You are, after all, half of my soul and this is where I found you."

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, I made Gellert even more powerful than he already was. :D
> 
>  
> 
> Translation of Gellert’s sentence:
> 
> “The court has reached its verdict. The defendant is declared guilty of crimes against humanity, against the Muggel- and the magical community. He is sentenced to life in Nurmengard, the prison erected by himself. Shields will be raised around the premises to ward against the use of magic, including innate, wandless magic, such as the defendant’s metamorphmagus-abilities. Gellert Grindelwald, do you accept this sentence?”
> 
> „Herein!“ – „Enter!“


End file.
